


A Lesson in Shame

by AceMoppet



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt No Comfort, Nonbinary Jaskier | Dandelion, Other, Pining, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Yenralt is mentioned in passing, scratch that they're really sad, yeah uh. jaskier is kinda sad in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet
Summary: It’s the shame that consumes them, after everything.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	A Lesson in Shame

**Author's Note:**

> No one:  
> Absolutely no one:  
> Me: *adds another post-mountain Geraskier fic*
> 
> Hello Witcher fandom! I've been lurking for a while now, but this is my first Witcher fic on AO3! And there's definitely more to come- if you'd like to see more of my writing or just say hi, I'm acemoppet on Tumblr!

It’s the shame that consumes them, after everything.

They’re not familiar with the emotion- the world is their oyster, and if they are condemned by everyone else as greedy and lusty for wanting it, well that’s everyone else’s business, isn’t it? They’ll just keep on laughing their way through life and sticking their fingers in every metaphorical and literal pie they come across if it so pleases them.

(‘Does a pie have filling when there are fingers stuck in it?’ they wonder one lonely night. They don’t speak aloud- what’s the point when there’s no one to listen?

Even when there was, it’s not like he listened anyways.)

Strangely enough, it is Geralt who teaches them shame. They learn it in the way Geralt’s shoulders curve ever so minutely when a child runs from him, in the way his jaw clenches when he hears his old, erroneous moniker. They learn it in the way Geralt hides under his hair when mothers rage against him for not being able to save their child, in the way his hand flexes and carefully stills when men jeer at him from across the tavern.

They learn it in the way Geralt yells at them, and suddenly the puzzle pieces of their past few years together paint a very, very different picture.

See, they’d known for a while that Geralt was getting fed up with them- it was in the way he rarely looked at them, looked past them really. It was in the way he never sought them out anymore, in the way that Jaskier was the one to track them down every spring after the djinn incident when before they’d usually find Geralt seeking them as often as they’d seek Geralt. It was in the way Geralt went stonier and stonier every time they tracked him down, in the way his hums had started to become ambiguous when Jaskier had sworn they’d learnt them all years ago. It was in the way his teasing had become sharper, so sharp Jaskier had idly wondered if Geralt could craft a sword with them, in the way his scowls had permanently taken over his face, only carving deeper with every desperate attempt Jaskier flung out to reach him.

There’s a reason they asked for another chance to prove themself a good travel companion.

The thing is. The  _ thing  _ is. They really thought they could fix it- in their lightest moments, they suspected Yennefer- Geralt always did seem to be gloomier every time the two parted- and in their darkest, they suspected themself. Oh not their general demeanour of course- Geralt had years to get used to that, so it couldn’t have been that-

(But it was. It  _ was.) _

-but maybe it had to with how slow they’d gotten as they got older. Their joints ached now, from time to time, and they were slower in the mornings. They couldn’t perform as long into the night now, and though the lost coin was made up by their popularity, perhaps the little markers ticked Geralt, who was removed from the aging of the universe, off.

Whatever it was, they thought they could fix it together- they’d been friends for years and years, and sure, perhaps Geralt hadn’t really ever claimed that, but that’s no matter at all. All they needed to do was to sit Geralt down, preferably at a time when he was relaxed, and then coax out the reason he’d been so… so…

( _ ‘Mean’,  _ Jaskier thinks now, and shakes their head. It’s a childish word, that, and they’re not a child, no matter how much their belly aches in the middle of the night or their hands cramp from reaching out to Geralt’s back in their dreams.)

It was a fool’s dream- Geralt had never wanted to talk to them about even little stuff, so why the hell did Jaskier expect him to talk about the bigger things? 

So yes, the pieces fall into place, and they paint a rather pathetic picture- Geralt’s been telling them to fuck off since at least Rinde, maybe Cintra, perhaps even  _ fucking Posada- _

And Jaskier, fool they are, decided to follow him anyway.

What a stupid,  _ stupid  _ fool they are.

They’re a  _ bard _ , for Melitele’s sake- they’re supposed to be good at sussing people out. They’ve been wrong before, of course they’ve been wrong before, but not like this. Not where it’s supposed to count.

Or. Where it  _ was  _ supposed to count.

Even worse- they want Geralt back. It’s stupid and foolish and  _ shameful- _

But they want Geralt back.

They  _ miss _ him, fucking rat bastard that he is. They miss his quiet hums, the way he’d always sharpen his swords in the evening. They miss the amused glint in his eye, the way he’d reward them with a small smile if one of their jokes had landed. They miss the shuffling in the mornings, the way he’d always give Roach a kind word or two along with her breakfast before they set out. Hell, they even miss the way he smelled with three day old monster guts crusted in his hair.

It’s pathetic, is what it is. Jaskier’s always known that the world considers them pathetic- everything from their looks to their statements is open, open, open, and that’s how they like to be. They wouldn’t be a very good bard if they couldn’t be expressive now, would they? It’s never bothered them- it’s not like the people who judge them are the ones they come home to.

Even Geralt thought Jaskier was pathetic, and they were fine with it! 

...Er, well, ok, not quite fine with it, but it didn’t bother them because Geralt just took it in stride and never gave them shit for it. Much.

Eh, whatever, they gave as good as they got.

But to have been that open- to have been flinging, and flinging, and flinging their flayed insides at Geralt all these years only to see his back, rock-sturdy and implacable. It. Well. It  _ hurts,  _ like their lungs are trying to press out of their chest, like air would fly away even if they tried to breathe. And then something curdles in their belly, and it takes a while for them to realize that it’s not grief, not numbness, not even anger- it’s shame.

Shame that they were wrong, so wrong. Shame that now, at the midpoint of their life, they look out onto the world alone- no family, no friends. They may have fame aplenty, as well as coin should they care for it, but they’ve lost the best friend they’ve ever had-

Wait. That’s wrong. Can’t lose something, or someone, you’ve never had in the first place.

They’ll keep going, of course- there’s no point in pinning everything, from life to music to friendship, all on one person. And yes, perhaps they should have figured this out earlier, but at least they figured it out.

Still, if they’re a bit quieter these days, well. Shame makes it hard to talk.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> May add a sequel from Geralt's side


End file.
